


Do What's Best

by Anonymous



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Drugs, Ephebophilia, Incest, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Trans Dave Strider, bro feels guilty sometimes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:13:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25841899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: It takes someone special, Bro thinks, to unravel that coil within him, expose muscle and nerve and stare into the blackness inside. Dave's always been special.
Relationships: Dave's Bro | Beta Dirk Strider/Dave Strider
Kudos: 34
Collections: Anonymous





	Do What's Best

It takes someone special, Bro thinks, to unravel that coil within him, expose muscle and nerve and stare into the blackness inside. Dave, his son, his little brother, crouches down on the sidewalk outside their mobile home. He pokes at a dead pigeon with a thin stick, turns its limp head with it and watches fluid form around it, turn the pavement dark. Dave’s always been special. Bro stands at the door and watches him.

“Lunch,” he says, and this prompts the boy to jump to his feet. Dave’s always been obedient.

They eat eggs and toast for lunch, like they always do. It’s cheap and easy to make, and Dave never complains. It’s protein. It’s good for him. In the background, static drowns out the sound of the Tom and Jerry reruns playing on their 13’’ TV. Dave likes to watch cartoons while he eats. Bro likes to watch his son’s small mouth, and how shiny his eyes look reflecting the small screen.

Hot sun pours in through a half open window, they spend the afternoon on the fold-out couch with a fan pointed at them. Dave wants to nap, but Bro won’t stop groping at his arms and legs, moving him around and just _touching_ him. Finally, he gives up, wraps his arms around his big brother and starts kissing his face feverishly. He didn’t know how to kiss properly until Bro showed him, didn’t know what sex was until Bro _showed_ him. He sighs in delight when their lips finally meet, and the man’s grip on his thigh relaxes.

Dave has a vague idea, Bro thinks, that this isn’t normal. As poorly socialized as his boy is, he’s not dumb. Maybe he’s never been to a real school and maybe he’s never been inside a real family home, but he can figure out that the arrangement they’ve got going on isn’t how it’s supposed to work. And even if he can’t figure it out, he’s sure there’s some weird little structure in his brain, something that most people have that tells them not to fuck their relatives. Bro’s sure that part of his kid’s brain is constantly going off.

Although, with the ferver Dave shows when he shrugs his red T-shirt off, grabs Bro’s hands and urges them to his breasts, they might both be just as sick as each other. Or maybe Bro poisoned him, fed him whatever illness he has and ruined any shot the kid might have had at a stable life. Bro doesn’t want to think about that. His large hands shake as he grabs the boy.

And after they’re done, when the wrong inside of them is temporarily snuffed out, Dave crawls onto him and rests his head on his chest. Then, he grabs Bro’s arm, inspects the muscle and hair. He ghosts his fingers over fading track marks, long healed scars, and presses his lips to the skin of Bro’s knuckle. It’s more obscene than any of what they just did, the gentleness of his boy makes him want to throw up with guilt.

Dave sits up. He reaches down to the ground and picks up Bro’s shirt. He puts it on and gets up.

“I have to piss,” he says, voice rough. His throat is probably sore. And Bro just lies there and watches the sunlight dance on Dave’s skin, watches the space between his thighs, and the trail of liquid on his inner thigh that catches the light. The TV is just static now, driving up their electricity bill, so he tells Dave to turn it off on his way back.

They get high once the night falls, once the street lights come on and the cats in the neighborhood begin to yowl. Dave eats cereal out of the box, sits cross legged on the couch and shoves handfuls of the sugary stuff into his mouth. Then he drinks enough tap water that Bro thinks he might explode, or be sick.

“Slow down, little man,” Bro drawls, voice low and heavy. Dave rolls his eyes, leans over him and grabs the joint from his hands and takes a small drag before stubbing out the roach in an old glass ashtray. He holds his breath just like Bro taught him, and he exhales a thin strand of smoke with a small cough.

Dave’s never had kids his age to play with. And now that he’s a teenager, the kid’s convinced he’s all grown up. So he was almost cocky the first time he swung a leg over his brother’s, his dad’s, and stared right at him. But he shows his age with how upfront he is, or maybe that’s another sign of poor socialization. Regardless, Dave has all the nerve of someone who’s never been taught what shame is. The closest he gets is the pink tint his face takes when his Bro tells him he’s pretty, or smart, or that he did good. He’ll turn his head, try to look away, and get red right up to the tips of his ears. Then Bro will kiss his cheeks and nose, ruffle his hair, or indulge in some other tender display that makes the pit of his stomach turn with guilt.

Still, with Dave climbing into his lap, he contemplates taking him again, and all those good intentions and guilt are out the window just like that. He decides against it, and pulls the boy close to his chest instead. One broad hand rubs at Dave’s back while the other threads itself in his hair. He holds him close. Simple and clean. That’s what he meant to give him. They fall asleep like that.

The next morning, Bro wakes up alone. He sits up and shoots up slowly and deliberately before getting out of bed and opening the front door. It’s probably noon already. The bright sun hits his face and makes his eyes hurt, so he squints.

And there’s Dave, crouched at the edge of the sidewalk next to a dead cat. Poor fucker must’ve gotten run over. Dave just stares at it, and then turns back to look at Bro. Rinse and repeat.


End file.
